This was originally posted on Tumblr as part of the GaaSaku fanfest in August. I've since reworked on the fic and expanded it quite a bit.
Warnings: Swearing and a light make-out session.
Ships: GaaSaku (main), ShikaTema (minor), KankuKiba (minor), very minor NejiTen, mentions of past GaaKin.
Gaara Sabaku focused on the clock over her grandmother's office.
It throbbed. Time passed. He ignored everything else.
In his peripheral vision, his grandmother's mouth was blurry, her lipstick stretched, a floating cloud of red, as she shouted at him. His hand closed around his wrist watch, and he narrowed his eyes at the little hand moving slowly on the wall.
In 15 minutes, he would excuse himself to his meeting with new investors.
In one hour, it would be time to prepare for his interview: make-up, change of clothes, a microphone clipped to his tie.
In one hour twenty minutes, he would be on air answering questions about his recent acquisition of a dying familial company. What were his plans to revive it? He had prepared a stiff answer outlining five main business strategies.
"Are you listening, Gaara?" Chiyo Sabaku snapped and slapped the newspaper on the table in front of him.
Slowly, Gaara turned his head toward her, his pale eyes reluctantly glancing away from the clock. His grandmother's cheeks were rosy, her neat beige suit uneven across her shoulders from her gesturing. His brother, Kankuro, cleared his throat and nudged his thigh, widening his eyes at him. Gaara blinked back at him, until Kankuro mouthed: "answer her."
"Yes," Gaara replied, and Kankuro nudged him again. "Yes, I'm listening, obaasan."
Chiyo glared at him, breathing sharply from her nose. She pulled at her suit jacket sharply rearranging it over her small frame. Stiffly, she walked back to her desk and sat down, surveying her two grandsons with a twisted mouth. The title of director of the hospital gleamed in front of her as she laced her fingers together.
"Well, let's discuss how to fix this."
"It's not that bad, obaasan, I mean..." Kankuro drawled out and reached over the table to spin the newspaper toward him. "We can only see his hand on her back, and... Well, good for you, little bro. That's clearly some tongue action."
Gaara grunted.
"Shut up, Kankuro," Temari snapped icily.
She hadn't moved the window since Gaara and Kankuro had arrived. She stood still, her arms crossed over her chest, her back rigid, her face only a shadowy profile.
"Well, obviously, you're all blaming me," Kankuro said dryly, "but I didn't know he would lose his tongue and hands along the way when I asked him to pick me up."
Temari turned toward them, her eyes narrowed at Gaara.
"You should have called me," she snapped.
"You were with that lazy bum of yours," Gaara shrugged, and he glanced back at the clock.
"Why you little..."
Temari walked promptly toward her brothers and grabbed the newspaper. She hit her brothers' heads with it rolled tightly. Gaara and Kankuro grimaced, trying to cover their heads.
"OI! CALM DOWN!"
"Temari..."
"Enough!" Chiyo shouted with her palms raised.
She sighed and massaged her temples.
Temari hissed insults at her brothers before taking her place by the window. Her body stiffened in an angry cold posture. Her golden skin shimmered in the high sun, her teal eyes piercing through them.
Kankuro tsked his fingers while combing through his hair.
"If this is how you react when we mention that-" he started sardonically.
"I said enough!" Chiyo repeated with a tired voice.
Her chair spun toward her degrees and prizes hung across her wall. She had built the hospital from the ground, just as Gaara had built his company from the gaping hole of his father's dishonour. She sighed.
"Gaara, bring out your girlfriend into the spotlight, and we say it was her."
Gaara shifted in his seat.
"She broke it off with me," he said dully, his eyes following the new turn of the little hand on his grandmother's clock.
Soon. Soon.
Kankuro swore under his breath, and he glanced curiously at his little brother.
His face was expressionless, but his jaw clenched, small tremors spreading around his mouth. Like when he was lying. Kankuro closed his eyes, grimacing, praying Temari wouldn't notice.
Chiyo clicked her tongue, her brows furrowed.
"You should have told us. There's this scandal, and the chairman's elections are two months away... oh, dear me. Why did you buy off this little useless company, huh? Do you think you can afford to make mistakes right now?" her voice boomed, and Gaara shifted again in his seat. "The board of directors is already angry with you, and now this!" Chiyo slapped the picture with a disdainful hand heavy with jewelry. "I think it's time we consider arrangements," she concluded bluntly.
Kankuro picked at the leather of the armrest, glancing sideways at Gaara. His little brother didn't react, his eyes drawn again and again to the clock.
In eight minutes, he would excuse himself to his meeting with his investors...
"You're not arranging his life, obaasan," Temari said breathlessly, and Kankuro looked over his shoulder at her.
She was biting her lip, her face pale, her dark lipstick slightly smudged. They were the elders, but somehow Gaara had carried the family crest alone ever since he was a child.
"He doesn't have a choice!" Chiyo shook her finger at them. "Caught kissing like a teenager. Tsk, you don't think investors will turn away from him now? Unmarried, and unable to provide a clean image of a serious reliable man… This family is nobility." her voice was shrill, and the siblings all bowed their heads, flinching. At their father's funeral, the few who did show up said: 'This family was nobility. What a shame. Poor children, they'll grow with nothing but disgrace.'
"We can't afford the scandal. We bury it with a real marriage announcement and call this his wife."
"Obaasan, please! He's still young!" Temari protested, but Gaara stood up buttoning back his suit jacket.
"I'm not a child anymore, Tem," he said and smoothed the wrinkles, readjusted his tie. "I appreciate the concern, but she's right. Arrange it, obaasan, pick someone who needs my protection, fame and money."
"But..." Chiyo faltered, now standing up too. "We should consider the noble families..."
"No," Gaara said coldly, the corner of his mouth twitching. "This is how I want it. Now, if you would excuse me, I have a meeting with my investors."
Sakura Haruno waited, tensed muscles that snapped and spasmed. Her bun was too tight at the base of her nape. Her clothes felt like irritating wool against her skin, rubbing her raw. And always the thinning grating voice: 'you don't belong here.'
The waiting in front of the director's office was empty, pale grey armchairs were spread across the room, small tables by their right side. It was airy and elegant, and Sakura wished she had removed the hot pink nail polish half-chewed away. Or chosen a softer colour that could blend with the room. A neutral colour. An expensive manicure she couldn't afford.
Sakura winced and reached for the glass of water the secretary had placed to her right.
She had buried the letter of summon in her purse, but the words still spun in her head, the numbers wailing, harassing her. Her mind was loud, divided, despite the calm and serenity of the waiting room.
She had arrived 30 minutes early for her appointment with the director of the hospital, and she wished time would stop, so she could finally have enough time to breathe. Come up with the money. Pay off her crushing debts.
Biting her below lip, Sakura rubbed her hands on her thighs smoothing again her dark skirt. Her nails dug into her thigh when her leg started shaking. She tried to straighten her back, her fingers jerking to quell the urge to nibble on her thumb. Her back still in a rigid position, Sakura craned her beck to look at the secretary half-hidden behind the tall reception desk.
The door of the director's office opened briskly.
Sakura sprung to her feet, clutching her purse, her eyes widened in surprise.
A young man in a suit emerged, his eyes on his wrist watch. His red hair was unruly, but the rest of his appearance was calculated, from the colour of his tie to the one of his pocket square in his breast pocket. A woman and a man hurried after him.
"You can't possibly agree to this," the woman shouted, and her heels clicked rapidly, loud.
Her blond sandy spilled across her neck, slipping out of hair ties as she shook her head. She put her hand on the man's arm as if to stop him or comfort him, but he didn't seem to notice. The other man trailed behind his hands deep in his pockets, his steps reluctant, his dark eyes drifting across the familiar touch, as if he were a stranger.
Sakura felt herself blush at the loudness of the woman's voice, her partner's indifference and the other man's uncomfortable silence.
"Hn, this is final," Sakura heard the red-haired man replied in a dull voice, as they brushed by her.
Sakura bowed quickly.
The secretary stepped close to her, her hands delicately joined in front of her in a gesture of respect.
"Director Sabaku will see you now, Haruno-san."
Sakura startled, tearing her glance away from the trio waiting sullenly by the elevators. She cleared her throat readjusting her purse strapped over her shoulder.
"Thank you," Sakura smiled and bowed her head.
Sakura's fists shook as she followed the secretary. She squared her shoulders. She straightened her back, smoothing distractedly her skirt one last time. She had dressed up in her best clothes. There ought to be a way out.
You don't belong here.
If your tuition is not paid in its fullest by next Friday...
The director's face was drawn, carved by wrinkles that jerked. Her usual warm brown eyes bored through her. Sakura bowed stiffly, her hands growing cold.
"Sakura, sit."
Sakura sat down slowly in the closest armchair, smoothing her skirt under her. She cleared her throat when the silence between them stretched, and all she could hear was the ticking of the clock above the director's office.
"How are you, Chiyo-sama?"
"Enough with the niceties and the small talk," Chiyo snapped and stood up abruptly. "I want you to tell me what happened."
She paced, her mouth quivering while she mumbled to herself.
"The school-"
"The school sent me this ridiculous letter stating you're to be kicked out of the faculty, and your student visa revoked."
"I didn't get a scholarship for next year," Sakura said quietly with a forced smile. She squared her shoulders. Again. Rigid back. She was uncomfortable. Maybe she was even delusional about becoming a doctor in a strange land.
She had lived one day at a time, counting and recounting coins. There was nothing left to count now.
"I'll find the money another way. It's just the delay..."
"You have a student visa, Sakura," Chiyo interrupted her, frowning at the letter in front of her. "At the end of this semester, if you're not enrolled at the university, you have to go back home. There's nothing I can do."
"I'll find the money, Chiyo-sama," Sakura injected more firmness, more confidence in her voice. "If you could just plead with the board of directors..."
Sighing loudly, Chiyo threw her reading glasses on the desk and leaned back in her chair. Sakura snapped her mouth shut. She had never noticed how small and frail the director looked, half swallowed by an armchair and her title. Her head bobbed back against the headrest of her armchair, and she moaned.
Chiyo bent over swiftly, her arms back on her desk, her fingers laced together.
She filled the room once more.
"I'm sorry, Sakura. I'm being harsh with you because of my grandson," she clicked her tongue and shook her head. "He caused me quite the headache this morning."
"I'm sorry to hear that, Chiyo-sama."
The director cocked her head to the side, her glance piercing. Sakura blushed under her scrutiny, her hands curling swiftly to hide her hot pink nails.
"Sakura… Are you in a relationship with anyone?"
Sakura blinked, surprised by the gentle tone.
"No," she laughed nervously, glancing away as her face burnt. "I only have time for my hospital shifts and studying."
"Any family back in Konoha?"
She shook her head.
"Just some second-cousins."
Director Chiyo leaned back on her arm, knocking her knuckles on her desk. She still watched her intently. Sakura shifted in her seat, involuntary, limbs folding back uncomfortably on themselves. She was small, a small girl in a big room. In a big world.
"I'll make sure you have all the money you could ever dream on. You can finish your studies, be the doctor we both know you can be."
"Chiyo-sama!" Sakura gasped.
Chiyo held up a finger.
"If you marry my grandson."
"What?" Sakura stammered, colours draining from her face.
"He's a CEO who has made one too many mistakes lately. He needs someone like you to appear next to him and improve his image. You make sure he looks like a good reliable man, and I make sure you finish your studies."
"Chiyo-sama… I…"
"I'm not going to lie," she interrupted and her chair rolled toward the wall behind her where her whole life was displayed. "He was caught on camera kissing a lady. I'll spin this around for the family honour; this was you and, he's married to you."
"I can't get married," Sakura said dully in her native language.
Chiyo turned her chair back toward her, her brows furrowed.
"Now, you listen to me: don't throw your future away. You have nothing." she waved her hand in front of her and Sakura blanched, wondering if she would ever look like she belonged. "You're smart, but you have no family crest, no money, no family. You could have everything, if you say yes. How do you think I got to sit on this chair, huh? You think, I said no to using a man's title or influence? If a woman isn't ruthless about what she wants, she never reaches her full potential." Her featured softened. "Just meet him, first, and then decide."
"I'm running out of time… If by next Friday..." Sakura muttered, frozen into place.
"Well," Chiyo said with plucked lips, but her tone was gentle. "I suggest you meet him and decide quickly."
Gaara Sabaku, his name infiltrated her thoughts as Sakura lay in the darkness.
Director Sabaku had handed Sakura her card with her private cellphone number.
"Think about it," the director had repeated when she had walked her out of her office. "Think about it." Her glance had cut through her.
As always, Sakura's mind was divided, two clear pieces that fought ruthlessly: she couldn't do this. She would do this. There was the meek girl, terrified, crushed by loneliness, that trailed after the woman she had become. Squared shoulders, no glance back to the past, she reminded herself sternly.
Sakura rubbed her temples.
She had received a second eviction notice. It was now Tuesday and the passing time now rushed, leaving her chasing behind a dream breathless. She needed money.
She needed to belong here. As a doctor. As someone who wasn't the meek girl with the big forehead and giant dreams who was bullied.
Sakura rolled and tossed in her bed, her sheets tangled around her, then kicked off them her bed. The fabric snapped and pooled on the floor. She groaned and rubbed at her face, sitting up. She moved her hands away from her face and glanced at her ring finger. Her hands trembled.
She couldn't do this.
She would do this.
As a doctor, Sakura couldn't afford trembling hands.
Sakura bent over her bed on all fours to pick up the bed sheets from the floor. She wrapped them around her shoulders and lay back on the bed. She unlocked her phone's screen, biting her lip as she typed his name in a search engine. She scrolled down, her heart throbbing, her breath caught painfully in her throat. The majority of headlines showed him in a blurry photo half-turned away from the camera. His head was bent over a petite woman, his eyes closed. From the woman, she could only see a shadowy figure wrapped in a long coat, a delicate hand cupping his cheek.
Could this be me? Sakura wondered involuntarily.
She didn't sleep.
She stared at the ceiling.
She stared at her ringless hand.
She stared at her medical textbooks, the eviction notice placed on top of it, the letter from the university about her tuition folded next to the pile.
Could she be that ruthless about her future?
Yes.
The music in the bar rattled his bones, loud and off-beat, and Gaara gritted his teeth, all of his body on edge. He barely acknowledged Kiba when he stood up and excused himself. He could feel Kankuro's dark stare on him, and instinctively his shoulders tensed up.
Recently there had been nothing but tension between him and his siblings. With Temari's engagement to Shikamaru Nara and her plan to move to his hometown, Kankuro and Gaara had gone drinking more frequently, never talking about the move.
They never talked about family.
And Temari was pulling away from them.
"Is there something you'd like to tell me?" Kankuro said and his gaze drifted to the crowd gleaming in purple and pink lights. "You've about five minutes before Kiba comes back from the bathroom."
"Hn, " Gaara growled and downed his beer.
"I know you lied about that break-up. What's going on?" Kankuro asked sternly. "Please tell me you're not stringing someone along. We raised you better than that."
Gaara's mouth twitched. He glanced at his watch, but there was nothing on his agenda next. He couldn't make excuse and leave.
"I wanted Temari and obaasan off my back," he grudgingly admitted, and glanced up quickly at Kankuro's shocked face.
Gaara turned his pale gaze to the crowd. He wanted to reach for his forehead, touched the tattoo there. Love. He was surprised his lie had lasted that long. Didn't they know no one could ever love him?
"What does that mean?" Kankuro whispered loudly.
Gaara's hand stiffened around his empty glass.
"There never was a girlfriend."
"Who the hell was that on the picture then?" Kankuro asked in a low voice, his eyes narrowed. He seemed to plead him: 'Don't tell me it was her. Don't tell me it was her. Everyone, but her!'
"Hn."
"Gaara!" Kankuro shouted, and his face tensed like a crumbling mask.
"Kin. It was Kin."
"For fuck's sakes," his brother swore under his breath before downing his own beer.
"She won't say anything," Gaara said quickly, but Kankuro's glare only intensified.
"Oh yeah? Did you forget she works for Orochimaru? Did you forget how much clean up we needed to do last time, huh?"
"I was drunk. She was there..."
"Are you being daft or naïve right now?" Kankuro carefully lowered the glass back to the table, but his voice boomed, the rest of him loud and cold. He looked like their father the most when he was angry. "Of course, she was there! She's always fucking there working for that snake."
"Hn."
Kankuro smacked his lips together and pushed his empty glass toward the centre of the table with the other empty ones.
"Now, you listen to me, Gaara," he snapped and shook his finger at him in a familiar gesture, and Gaara immediately tensed. Even if it wasn't his father. Even if he had been dead for years now. He still tensed, steeling himself for a blow, his eyes burning with hatred.
Kankuro faltered when his face changed, and they both held their breath. Kankuro slowly curled his fists in a fist. He knocked on the sticky table to punctuate his words.
"You get married to a nice simple girl, and you stop that shit with Kin, alright?" Kankuro finished with an even voice.
"What do you think I'm doing right now?" Gaara said and they both pretended they weren't haunted by their angry and bitter father.
"I don't know. What the fuck were you thinking? God."
"We only kissed."
"Yeah, the whole country saw, little bro," Kankuro said sarcastically. "If you had slept with her it would be all over the papers."
They remained silent for a while, their jaws clenched, their eyes devouring the crowd of happy sweaty bodies.
"Can we not be angry with each other?" Gaara said softly.
They haltered.
They locked eyes.
'Like we're angry with Temari,' Gaara didn't add, but the implication hung heavily in the air. Kankuro glanced away, his lips set a hard line.
"I'm annoyed, not angry."
"Your eyebrow is twitching."
"Kiba is coming back," Kankuro said stiffly, ignoring him. "Now, shut up, be a good little bro, and flag the waiter. I need a drink."
Gaara raised his hand, and leaned back against his chair, relieved that Kiba was loud enough to fill all the cracks of them.
"Another round, please," he called out, just as Kiba approached.
The waiter bowed and hurried back to the bar to make their drinks.
"All right, let's get this party started!" Kiba rubbed his hands together and sat down. "What did I miss?"
He looked between them, grinned, wolfish, his cheeks flushed beneath his clan's tattoos.
"Hn."
"Gaara is getting into an arranged marriage." Kankuro smiled thinly, his eyes hardening as he held his brother's eyes. "Isn't that just like in the movies?"
"Damn," Kiba whistled and drummed his fingers on the table. "Never mind the other round, let's do shots!"
Kankuro kissed his shoulder grinning.
"You're already drunk, hun."
"So? There's more alcohol behind that bar and Gaara still looks all stiff in that suit. Oi, do you ever take it off? Or do you sleep in it?"
"Very mature, Inuzuka," Gaara scowled at him when his phone vibrated in his pocket.
The waiter put their drinks in front of them and took away the empty glasses. He bowed low.
"Enjoy!"
Ignoring Kiba's smirk, Gaara took advantage of the waiter interrupting them and pulled his phone out of his inner pocket. He frowned at the screen. His grandmother had sent him a picture.
"No phone!" Kiba swatted his hand away.
Kankuro laughed quietly behind his glass. Kiba instinctively treated Gaara like his little brother, and Gaara reacted like he would with Kankuro: with gritted teeth, but carefully weighted words when he was annoyed.
"Touch me again and I'll snap your fingers," Gaara said darkly, his eyes still on the screen.
"So touchy," Kiba grinned.
"Who's that?" Kankuro asked with forced casualness.
"Obaasan... She wants me to marry a pink-haired woman. Hn. Do you think it's one of her pranks?"
"Show us the picture," Kiba gestured excitedly and sipped from his beer.
Gaara turned the phone toward them. Kankuro and Kiba inclined their heads in mirrored gesture, frowning at the picture, then looked at each other and shrugged.
"Obviously, we don't swing that way," Kiba said finally, "but she doesn't look like a troll."
"Yeah, she looks cute for someone with a vagina. I could call her my little sis."
"Hn," Gaara turned the phone back toward him.
She had the pale skin of a Northern foreigner, a hesitant smile, and wide green eyes. She wore bright colours that blended with the light pink of her hair.
So unlike Kin, who was dark and languid.
Even if their relationship had been fake, even if Orochimaru had pulled them together, Gaara had been desperate enough to grasp at crumbs of love to ignore the accumulating red flags. A scandal had been avoided by a hair with Kankuro and Shikamaru burying Kin in legal threats.
Gaara hadn't dated since.
When he had seen her again that night... He knew it was a mistake, but her mouth was hot on his and he felt energized, her skin rubbing against his.
And he closed his eyes and pretended he wasn't alone.
"Shots!" Gaara barked and gestured stiffly for the waiter, and Kiba cried out with glee, Kankuro carefully edging the drink away from his boyfriend.
Kiba pretended not to notice, but he squeezed Kankuro's hand.
Gaara watched them for a moment, his beer turning bitter on his tongue.
This was what he wanted: all the little things that Kankuro and Kiba, and Temari and Shikamaru did for each other.
All the little things that made him so painfully lonely.
I'm really excited to write GaaSaku for the first time. It was my first crack ship; I've always liked their potential dynamics. I honest to God can't figure out why it took me so long to write them.
Anyway, here we are. :D
Just to let you know: next update will be posted in two weeks, so September 18th.
Thank you for reading! Reviews/faving/alerting(?) are always appreciated! :)